Cape and Cowl Application/Important OOC Info
PLAYER
NAME: AF
AGE: 20
JOURNAL: hotandcoldrp
IM: AIM: DecepticonAF
E-MAIL: decepticonaf@aol.com
RETURNING: N/A
[CHARACTER INFO]
CHARACTER NAME: Sgt. Dexter Grif
FANDOM: Red vs. Blue
CHRONOLOGY: The 14 months at Rat's Nest between the Blood Gulch Chronicles and Reconstruction.
BACKGROUND:
Dexter Grif was born the eldest of two siblings. He was left to raise his younger sister on his own when his mother ran away to join the circus as the bearded fat lady. It wasn't too long after that that the first and only draft in the past 400 years was held, and Grif was the unlucky singular winner. He was stationed in the Red Team at Blood Gulch, a useless box canyon at the ass-end of the universe, where he proceeded to do as little as humanly possible for the next 3 years, an effort made easier by the fact that nothing ever happened there. At least, nothing happened until Private Donut arrived and, when sent on a fool's errand to the "store" to buy "elbow grease and headlight fluid," he instead returned with the Blue Team's flag in his possession. A string of unusually intense battles followed, and at the end the Red Team had lost the Blue Flag, their robot helper, and any chance Donut ever had of being taken seriously, thanks to his new pink lightish red pink armor.
Things were fairly quiet for three months, until the Reds launched an attack on the Blues and, when they ran out of ammo because they'd foolishly put Grif in charge of bringing extra, they gave the Blues the chance to surrender. The Blues complied, sending over the medic, Doc, and taking Grif's dignity. Doc turned out to be completely useless not long thereafter and the Reds abandoned him in the middle of the canyon. Sarge finally decided to do something about Lopez's absence and decided to turn one of his human men into a cyborg to compensate, specifically Simmons. Grif and Donut were sent to fetch a part for the surgery from the Warthog, only to find the Blues' tank bearing down on them. Grif didn't run away in time and when he next gained consciousness he was informed that Simmons's cyborg surgery had continued as planned and his spare parts were used to repair the bits of Grif that had been damaged by the tank or damaged by his frankly horrific dietary habits or had just seemed fun to replace. Grif was, understandably, kind of horrified.
Not long after that, Grif and Donut were spent on a recon mission, where Donut managed to get himself captured by the Blues. The Blues used him as a bargaining chip to get Sarge to build two robots for them. At the meeting to hand the robots over, all hell broke loose as the two teams were attacked by O'Malley, an evil A.I. that had possessed Doc. O'Malley stole Lopez and escaped through the Red's teleporter. The two teams regrouped and came to a truce. They followed through the teleporter in pairs, only for the teleporter to send each pair somewhere completely different. Grif and Church, the Blue Team's de facto leader, ended up on the snowy planet of Sidewinder, where they were promptly arrested and thrown in jail by the local Red Team. They remained there for a few hours, and after the freelancer Wyoming had slaughtered everyone in the base save the two of them, the bars of the jail mysteriously raised and the pair were freed. They met up with the rest of their teams conveniently right outside and battled O'Malley, only for the bomb in Church's gut to explode and blow everyone into the far future except not really.
The teams regrouped again and battled O'Malley again, but after they'd chased him out of his fortress, the Reds decided to bugger off and follow the distress signal they'd picked up on their jeep's radio without the Blues. They drove for a while and finally emerged on the canyon walls of good ol' Blood Gulch.
Grif spent hours rooted to that spot screaming his lungs out in despair.
Eventually he joined the rest of the Reds on the canyon floor and witnessed Sheila the tank drive behind Sarge. When Sarge refused to believe this happened, Grif claimed not to have seen it, just to annoy Simmons. This was a decision he would later regret, as Simmons was exiled from Red Team, Donut took over his vacated second-in-command position, and Simmons went insane and painted himself blue to wage a one-man war against his own team. Simmons took Grif hostage until Grif was "rescued" (read: knocked out) by Sarge. Simmons later returned to Red Base and negotiated his way back onto the team
Later, they attacked the Blue Team, who had recently returned to Blood Gulch themselves. Sarge radioed Command for reinforcements and a spaceship landed on Donut not long thereafter. On this ship was Grif's sister, much to his surprise and subsequent rage. Sister shared the news that she'd be sent to replace a recently deceased commanding officer, much to the confusion of Sarge, who was still alive and well. Grif countered with the idea that if Command was wrong about Sarge being dead, then maybe they could be wrong about other things, too, such as "the Blues sucking".
Sarge promptly decided that, yup, he was dead as a doornail and a funeral was quickly held in his honor. Not long after the burial, it came to light that Sister, who was colorblind, was actually a member of the Blue Team. While Simmons raced off to dig Sarge up in a panic, Grif sent Sister off to Blue Team. When Sarge's grave turned out to lead to a vast underground cave system, Simmons and Grif explored it briefly before they were tranquilized and Grif was kidnapped by an alien and his associate who quickly abandoned him when it turned out he had no goddamn clue what they were on about. After the Red Team was fully reunited, they explored the caves some more, finding a strange wall of monitors that had video feed of the entire canyon. Through these monitors, they discovered that the Blues had taken over their base, but left their own abandoned, and so the Reds took over Blue Base. There they witnessed the Blues under attack from a horde of Wyomings and joined the battle themselves when Grif unwittingly pointed out that letting the Wyomings win would mean that the Blues were defeated without the Reds gaining any glory, something Sarge wouldn't tolerate. After the Wyomings were all killed, O'Malley returned, possessing almost every single character before ending up back in his original host, Tex, who stole the ship Sister had arrived in and warped away to parts unknown.
After this, things in Blood Gulch returned to normal for a while, until word came from Command that the bases there were considered outdated and that all the soldiers in Blood Gulch would be transferred to new bases. Sarge refused to relocate, seeing such as admitting defeat, and Grif was promoted to Sergeant in his place as he and Simmons were transferred to the Red Base at Rat's Nest.
PERSONALITY:
Grif is a quintessential dude. He's laid back and casual, to the point of laziness and then some and then some more for good measure. If there's anything he can think of that'll make things easier for him, he'll go for it. Keeping his life as easy and as safe as possible is his core goal. Grif is a shameless coward, hardly surprising for someone who never wanted to be in the military in the first place. That said, his self-preservation instinct is kind of sub par, and he has a very bad habit of mouthing off to people who can very easily hurt him very badly. Grif is something of a mouthy jerk, much like just about everyone else in his canon. He'll quickly point out flaws and contradictions when he sees them, usually through sarcasm and/or mockery, and has something of a habit of doing or saying something specifically to push somebody's buttons, usually Simmons's. Respect just really isn't a word in his vocabulary. Although he has a rather tactless nature, Grif doesn't really have much in the way of genuine malice. Despite the nigh-constant abuse he gets from Sarge, it's only in the most recent canon that Grif's ever been shown retaliating. While Grif is pretty easily annoyed, he's very hard to actually anger.
Grif's intelligence is kind of a nebulous thing. He's only really interested in things directly relevant to his interests, his interests being keeping himself as fat and happy as he can. As such, he displays an astounding amount of ignorance, such as thinking electricity is "some kind of invisible magic" or believing in the existence of a country called "Spanishland" rich in water slides and salsa. He also has a bad habit of not thinking before he opens his big, fat, stupid mouth. Really, what goes through his head is what comes out of his mouth, with no filtering in between. When he actually stops and thinks for a minute, he's usually pretty successful, having gotten members of his team to do some frankly ridiculous things, though, admittedly, this success is probably helped by how easily the rest of the team's insanity is taken advantage of.
CLASS: Neutral and Apathetic. He'll be keeping his tags for the sake of free housing.
SUPERHERO NAME: Grifball
ALTER EGO: Dexter Grif, unemployed slacker and occasional con man.
POWER: The closest thing Grif has to a canon power is the Rule-of-Funny-granted ability to survive honestly kind of ridiculous things.
Consequently, his power in the game will be a healing factor. To also play off the Grifball thing, Grif will also have the ability to generate a small bomb that will automatically detonate after about 30 seconds. This bomb will automatically turn the clothes of anyone who's currently holding it bright orange.
Oh, and he's still got that armor of his and his guns.
COMMUNITY POST SAMPLE:
So, hey, you might want to fix the aim on your teleporter. If you're trying to nab heroes, then I'm not sure who you were aiming for, but, trust me, you missed by a long shot. If I find any heroes, I'll be sure to send them your way, but don't get your hopes up too high. You sure won't be getting any heroing from me. That shit's dangerous and call me old-fashioned, but I happen to be pretty attached to the idea of living.
And speaking of living, can somebody give me directions to the nearest bar? No, wait, somewhere where I can get a free change of clothes and then the nearest bar. That would be a better idea.
THIRD PERSON:
"Grif, you can't sell all our ammo to the Blues."
Grif tilted his head back as he took a puff off his cigarette and exhaled with a sigh, not even bothering to make eye contact-well, eye-to-helmet contact-with Simmons. "You're the one with the rulebook memorized, dude, does it say that I can't?"
Simmons sputtered for a moment-bingo--before answering with, "It's common sense, asshole. They're the enemy! You don't arm the enemy! Are you crazy?"
"Yes, Simmons, that's exactly it," Grif replied sarcastically, lowering his head again to fix Simmons with a deadpan stare. "I've gone completely off my rocker. I just woke up this morning and went, 'Man, I really need a few dozen bullet holes in my gut and I know just how to get 'em!'" He didn't need to see Simmons's face to know he was being glared at. He'd hoped that Simmons wouldn't find out about this little venture of his, but he wasn't really surprised that he had. Now it was just a matter of damage control before he tried to actually do something about it instead of just bitching at him.
Grif pushed off the wall he was leaning on and half-shrugged. "Look, dude, you know I'm not a big fan of getting shot at."
"You're not a fan of anything, except maybe sitting on your ass and stuffing your face," Simmons grumbled.
"Not true," Grif countered in a light tone, "I also enjoy classical music and relentlessly mocking you, dickface." He rolled his eyes. "But do you really think I'm dumb enough to give the Blues bullets just so they can turn around and shoot me?"
"Yes," Simmons answered, much too quickly for Grif's tastes. Grif fixed him with A Look before continuing his explanation.
"The Blues are in a bad place right now. They're outnumbered, outgunned, all their vehicles are broken, they have Caboose, and we've been hitting them hard for a couple of weeks now. If we wanted to, we could win this thing right now."
"I fail to see how selling them ammo comes into this scenario as a good idea," Simmons said, still glaring up a storm.
"You know what happens if we win here, Simmons? We get reassigned somewhere else and have to do the whole damn thing all over again. No thanks. Me and the Blue lieutenant guy, we reached an agreement: we sell them some of our ammo and as long as they don't start anything with us, we don't wipe them off the map. A nice, comfortable stalemate." Grif gestured. That was his plan in a nutshell and, overall, he thought it was a pretty good one.
"What?! That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard! A stalemate?! You've been doing this just to set up a fucking stalemate?! And what do you mean, 'we sell them some of our ammo'? We're selling them all of our ammo! Are you trying to get us all killed?"
Grif leaned back against the wall again and took another drag off his cigarette while he let Simmons go off on his tirade. He couldn't help but smirk a little, though-Simmons had used 'we' instead of 'you'. "We don't exactly have a lot of ammo to spare, dude. I was lucky to cut a deal with what we do have. That doesn't mean we have to tell them that. It'll take them forever to get their shit together, anyway."
Simmons paused for a brief moment before saying, "This is insane."
"It'll be fine," Grif insisted as he put out his cigarette and put his helmet back on. "Watch, everything'll go just as planned. What's the worst that could happen?"
---
"Any last words?" the leader of the firing squad asked.
"Yeah," Grif answered. "You guys suck."
NAME: AF
AGE: 20
JOURNAL: hotandcoldrp
IM: AIM: DecepticonAF
E-MAIL: decepticonaf@aol.com
RETURNING: N/A
[CHARACTER INFO]
CHARACTER NAME: Sgt. Dexter Grif
FANDOM: Red vs. Blue
CHRONOLOGY: The 14 months at Rat's Nest between the Blood Gulch Chronicles and Reconstruction.
BACKGROUND:
Dexter Grif was born the eldest of two siblings. He was left to raise his younger sister on his own when his mother ran away to join the circus as the bearded fat lady. It wasn't too long after that that the first and only draft in the past 400 years was held, and Grif was the unlucky singular winner. He was stationed in the Red Team at Blood Gulch, a useless box canyon at the ass-end of the universe, where he proceeded to do as little as humanly possible for the next 3 years, an effort made easier by the fact that nothing ever happened there. At least, nothing happened until Private Donut arrived and, when sent on a fool's errand to the "store" to buy "elbow grease and headlight fluid," he instead returned with the Blue Team's flag in his possession. A string of unusually intense battles followed, and at the end the Red Team had lost the Blue Flag, their robot helper, and any chance Donut ever had of being taken seriously, thanks to his new pink lightish red pink armor.
Things were fairly quiet for three months, until the Reds launched an attack on the Blues and, when they ran out of ammo because they'd foolishly put Grif in charge of bringing extra, they gave the Blues the chance to surrender. The Blues complied, sending over the medic, Doc, and taking Grif's dignity. Doc turned out to be completely useless not long thereafter and the Reds abandoned him in the middle of the canyon. Sarge finally decided to do something about Lopez's absence and decided to turn one of his human men into a cyborg to compensate, specifically Simmons. Grif and Donut were sent to fetch a part for the surgery from the Warthog, only to find the Blues' tank bearing down on them. Grif didn't run away in time and when he next gained consciousness he was informed that Simmons's cyborg surgery had continued as planned and his spare parts were used to repair the bits of Grif that had been damaged by the tank or damaged by his frankly horrific dietary habits or had just seemed fun to replace. Grif was, understandably, kind of horrified.
Not long after that, Grif and Donut were spent on a recon mission, where Donut managed to get himself captured by the Blues. The Blues used him as a bargaining chip to get Sarge to build two robots for them. At the meeting to hand the robots over, all hell broke loose as the two teams were attacked by O'Malley, an evil A.I. that had possessed Doc. O'Malley stole Lopez and escaped through the Red's teleporter. The two teams regrouped and came to a truce. They followed through the teleporter in pairs, only for the teleporter to send each pair somewhere completely different. Grif and Church, the Blue Team's de facto leader, ended up on the snowy planet of Sidewinder, where they were promptly arrested and thrown in jail by the local Red Team. They remained there for a few hours, and after the freelancer Wyoming had slaughtered everyone in the base save the two of them, the bars of the jail mysteriously raised and the pair were freed. They met up with the rest of their teams conveniently right outside and battled O'Malley, only for the bomb in Church's gut to explode and blow everyone into the far future except not really.
The teams regrouped again and battled O'Malley again, but after they'd chased him out of his fortress, the Reds decided to bugger off and follow the distress signal they'd picked up on their jeep's radio without the Blues. They drove for a while and finally emerged on the canyon walls of good ol' Blood Gulch.
Grif spent hours rooted to that spot screaming his lungs out in despair.
Eventually he joined the rest of the Reds on the canyon floor and witnessed Sheila the tank drive behind Sarge. When Sarge refused to believe this happened, Grif claimed not to have seen it, just to annoy Simmons. This was a decision he would later regret, as Simmons was exiled from Red Team, Donut took over his vacated second-in-command position, and Simmons went insane and painted himself blue to wage a one-man war against his own team. Simmons took Grif hostage until Grif was "rescued" (read: knocked out) by Sarge. Simmons later returned to Red Base and negotiated his way back onto the team
Later, they attacked the Blue Team, who had recently returned to Blood Gulch themselves. Sarge radioed Command for reinforcements and a spaceship landed on Donut not long thereafter. On this ship was Grif's sister, much to his surprise and subsequent rage. Sister shared the news that she'd be sent to replace a recently deceased commanding officer, much to the confusion of Sarge, who was still alive and well. Grif countered with the idea that if Command was wrong about Sarge being dead, then maybe they could be wrong about other things, too, such as "the Blues sucking".
Sarge promptly decided that, yup, he was dead as a doornail and a funeral was quickly held in his honor. Not long after the burial, it came to light that Sister, who was colorblind, was actually a member of the Blue Team. While Simmons raced off to dig Sarge up in a panic, Grif sent Sister off to Blue Team. When Sarge's grave turned out to lead to a vast underground cave system, Simmons and Grif explored it briefly before they were tranquilized and Grif was kidnapped by an alien and his associate who quickly abandoned him when it turned out he had no goddamn clue what they were on about. After the Red Team was fully reunited, they explored the caves some more, finding a strange wall of monitors that had video feed of the entire canyon. Through these monitors, they discovered that the Blues had taken over their base, but left their own abandoned, and so the Reds took over Blue Base. There they witnessed the Blues under attack from a horde of Wyomings and joined the battle themselves when Grif unwittingly pointed out that letting the Wyomings win would mean that the Blues were defeated without the Reds gaining any glory, something Sarge wouldn't tolerate. After the Wyomings were all killed, O'Malley returned, possessing almost every single character before ending up back in his original host, Tex, who stole the ship Sister had arrived in and warped away to parts unknown.
After this, things in Blood Gulch returned to normal for a while, until word came from Command that the bases there were considered outdated and that all the soldiers in Blood Gulch would be transferred to new bases. Sarge refused to relocate, seeing such as admitting defeat, and Grif was promoted to Sergeant in his place as he and Simmons were transferred to the Red Base at Rat's Nest.
PERSONALITY:
Grif is a quintessential dude. He's laid back and casual, to the point of laziness and then some and then some more for good measure. If there's anything he can think of that'll make things easier for him, he'll go for it. Keeping his life as easy and as safe as possible is his core goal. Grif is a shameless coward, hardly surprising for someone who never wanted to be in the military in the first place. That said, his self-preservation instinct is kind of sub par, and he has a very bad habit of mouthing off to people who can very easily hurt him very badly. Grif is something of a mouthy jerk, much like just about everyone else in his canon. He'll quickly point out flaws and contradictions when he sees them, usually through sarcasm and/or mockery, and has something of a habit of doing or saying something specifically to push somebody's buttons, usually Simmons's. Respect just really isn't a word in his vocabulary. Although he has a rather tactless nature, Grif doesn't really have much in the way of genuine malice. Despite the nigh-constant abuse he gets from Sarge, it's only in the most recent canon that Grif's ever been shown retaliating. While Grif is pretty easily annoyed, he's very hard to actually anger.
Grif's intelligence is kind of a nebulous thing. He's only really interested in things directly relevant to his interests, his interests being keeping himself as fat and happy as he can. As such, he displays an astounding amount of ignorance, such as thinking electricity is "some kind of invisible magic" or believing in the existence of a country called "Spanishland" rich in water slides and salsa. He also has a bad habit of not thinking before he opens his big, fat, stupid mouth. Really, what goes through his head is what comes out of his mouth, with no filtering in between. When he actually stops and thinks for a minute, he's usually pretty successful, having gotten members of his team to do some frankly ridiculous things, though, admittedly, this success is probably helped by how easily the rest of the team's insanity is taken advantage of.
CLASS: Neutral and Apathetic. He'll be keeping his tags for the sake of free housing.
SUPERHERO NAME: Grifball
ALTER EGO: Dexter Grif, unemployed slacker and occasional con man.
POWER: The closest thing Grif has to a canon power is the Rule-of-Funny-granted ability to survive honestly kind of ridiculous things.
Consequently, his power in the game will be a healing factor. To also play off the Grifball thing, Grif will also have the ability to generate a small bomb that will automatically detonate after about 30 seconds. This bomb will automatically turn the clothes of anyone who's currently holding it bright orange.
Oh, and he's still got that armor of his and his guns.
COMMUNITY POST SAMPLE:
So, hey, you might want to fix the aim on your teleporter. If you're trying to nab heroes, then I'm not sure who you were aiming for, but, trust me, you missed by a long shot. If I find any heroes, I'll be sure to send them your way, but don't get your hopes up too high. You sure won't be getting any heroing from me. That shit's dangerous and call me old-fashioned, but I happen to be pretty attached to the idea of living.
And speaking of living, can somebody give me directions to the nearest bar? No, wait, somewhere where I can get a free change of clothes and then the nearest bar. That would be a better idea.
THIRD PERSON:
"Grif, you can't sell all our ammo to the Blues."
Grif tilted his head back as he took a puff off his cigarette and exhaled with a sigh, not even bothering to make eye contact-well, eye-to-helmet contact-with Simmons. "You're the one with the rulebook memorized, dude, does it say that I can't?"
Simmons sputtered for a moment-bingo--before answering with, "It's common sense, asshole. They're the enemy! You don't arm the enemy! Are you crazy?"
"Yes, Simmons, that's exactly it," Grif replied sarcastically, lowering his head again to fix Simmons with a deadpan stare. "I've gone completely off my rocker. I just woke up this morning and went, 'Man, I really need a few dozen bullet holes in my gut and I know just how to get 'em!'" He didn't need to see Simmons's face to know he was being glared at. He'd hoped that Simmons wouldn't find out about this little venture of his, but he wasn't really surprised that he had. Now it was just a matter of damage control before he tried to actually do something about it instead of just bitching at him.
Grif pushed off the wall he was leaning on and half-shrugged. "Look, dude, you know I'm not a big fan of getting shot at."
"You're not a fan of anything, except maybe sitting on your ass and stuffing your face," Simmons grumbled.
"Not true," Grif countered in a light tone, "I also enjoy classical music and relentlessly mocking you, dickface." He rolled his eyes. "But do you really think I'm dumb enough to give the Blues bullets just so they can turn around and shoot me?"
"Yes," Simmons answered, much too quickly for Grif's tastes. Grif fixed him with A Look before continuing his explanation.
"The Blues are in a bad place right now. They're outnumbered, outgunned, all their vehicles are broken, they have Caboose, and we've been hitting them hard for a couple of weeks now. If we wanted to, we could win this thing right now."
"I fail to see how selling them ammo comes into this scenario as a good idea," Simmons said, still glaring up a storm.
"You know what happens if we win here, Simmons? We get reassigned somewhere else and have to do the whole damn thing all over again. No thanks. Me and the Blue lieutenant guy, we reached an agreement: we sell them some of our ammo and as long as they don't start anything with us, we don't wipe them off the map. A nice, comfortable stalemate." Grif gestured. That was his plan in a nutshell and, overall, he thought it was a pretty good one.
"What?! That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard! A stalemate?! You've been doing this just to set up a fucking stalemate?! And what do you mean, 'we sell them some of our ammo'? We're selling them all of our ammo! Are you trying to get us all killed?"
Grif leaned back against the wall again and took another drag off his cigarette while he let Simmons go off on his tirade. He couldn't help but smirk a little, though-Simmons had used 'we' instead of 'you'. "We don't exactly have a lot of ammo to spare, dude. I was lucky to cut a deal with what we do have. That doesn't mean we have to tell them that. It'll take them forever to get their shit together, anyway."
Simmons paused for a brief moment before saying, "This is insane."
"It'll be fine," Grif insisted as he put out his cigarette and put his helmet back on. "Watch, everything'll go just as planned. What's the worst that could happen?"
---
"Any last words?" the leader of the firing squad asked.
"Yeah," Grif answered. "You guys suck."